


Pirates

by LCWells



Series: Star Wars [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alderaan, Chandrila, Gen, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 05:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LCWells/pseuds/LCWells
Summary: When Imperial Captain Crix Madine was assigned to infiltrate the pirates of the Pulikat, he had more than one mission than the Empire knew. What he didn't realize was that he'd run into Mon Mothma of Chandrila again.





	1. Chapter 1

Major Blair Vesper scanned the latest intelligence holo and felt a foreboding.

_It could be that nothing will happen, he mused. The Labenth could be too big a target for Trotha._

His instincts warred with that hopeful thought. There were too many markers to believe it. Everything pointed to the pirates finally making a move, a raid of some kind.

His doubts didn’t matter just as long as Trotha did something that would bring the pirate out into the open. _Just let Trotha act on his hubris, and attack the Labenth. Please do that._

 _V_ esper wondered why the Emperor hadn't ordered his forces to move faster. Trotha first appeared on the Imperial radar nearly five years ago after taking his first set of hostages. Two years later, he compounded his reputation by kidnapping the Alderaani envoys sent to free prisoners he held.

That was the year that Breha of Alderaan died. That event was the start of this operation. Maybe I’ll be able to bring back the last envoy, Aldrich Dorris. That might satisfy Bail Organa. One less item for him to use against the Empire not moving fast enough against the pirates.

Even if he has a point, Organa is getting to the point of being a nuisance. The Emperor is going to have to do something about Alderaan.

Vesper shrugged and discarded the latest holo disk onto his desk. The table was littered with more and he knew each report. Nearby screens showed attack plans. He was ready.

He glanced out his office windows. Below the Imperial cruiser that was his headquarters he could see was the circular shape that was the busy spaceport of Orbisi where the sector’s transports bustled in and out, dropping off materials and passengers.

He could also see the passenger ship Labenth, seated in a cradle on the edge of the curve and loading, ready to head out for Coruscant after numerous stops along the way.

Farther out he saw two Imperial Star Destroyers, with another just appearing. The task force was gathering awaiting his signal to go against Trotha and his floating headquarter, the Pulikat.

The only reason they hadn’t done it before was the fact that Trotha’s damned HQ could vanish into hyperspace and out of our reach. That’s what happened after the pirate discovered Christof.

 _I’m not starting over again,_ Vesper promised himself. _This time, we’ll get Trotha and destroy his base. Can’t wait to close down those spaceship factories on the rim as well. They built the Pulikat and raked in the credits._

_The Senate will approve of wiping them out. Give more business to the legit builders on Corellia. Even the whiners, the ones who don’t believe in our Imperial peace, will approve of wiping out Trotha and Rim factories._

Giving the spaceport one last look, Vesper knew that no one there had an idea that anything was going to happen. He was going to keep it that way.

A lanky tall officer came in and stiffened at attention. He held out another disk.

"The passengers on the Labenth, Christof?" Vesper asked. He knew his aide had been on the ship’s bridge next door, impatiently watching for the Star Destroyers. He was going to command one of them, the Annas, in the attack.

"Yes, sir." The officer passed a holo to him.

Vesper passed his hand over it and glanced at the images that scrolled by. A trio of Wookiees; numerous alien businessmen; some families looking like they were going on vacation, and two diplomats.

“Hm. Chandrilan, from the cut of their clothing. Who are they?” He waved and the disc brought up more information on the two women. “Mon Mothma of Chandrila and an aide, Ceeli Montesi.”

___Oh, no. That won't do. I can’t permit her on the _Labenth_ , ruining my plan. _ _ _

“I’ll have to arrest her. I wonder what will work best?” he mused out loud, forgetting Christof’s presence. “Suspicion of treason? That would be tricky. Behavior unfitting a former Senator? No, no one would believe that about her. Maybe illegal transfer of fruits and vegetables between star systems?”

He looked up at Christof. “Fruits and vegetables, do you think?”

  
Christof looked nonplused. _ _  
__

__*_ _

He’d been infiltrating the pirates for three years, two and a half in command of the Brodal, a ship that smelled like an Imperial solitary confinement cell with a prisoner locked in for months with minimal hygiene. He was the prisoner and he stank of it as well.

Captain Crix Madine, Imperial intelligence and Special Forces, let his gaze drift over the pirates that made up the crew as they cleaned weapons and traded stories in various languages. He didn’t follow it all; even the translators were having a hard time keeping up with the talk.

He glanced at his reflection for a second in the cargo door. He was human (good to remember that), had mismatched eyes -- one yellow, one blue -- and was heavily muscled with so many cobalt and black tattoos that he couldn’t see the original pale color of his skin. He looked like Vesper with blue streaks. He wanted to live to tell his friend and commanding officer that he didn’t appreciate becoming his clone with blue highlights.

Madine was Artho now, someone from a system so far on the edge of the galaxy that only one other pirate, Wallyd, had ever visited it. Wallyd died within a week of Madine’s arrival with the Brodal. Artho made sure of it.  
He couldn’t wait for this to be over. The yellow eye camera was recording everything for evidence, not that it mattered with these scum. They’ll never be taken in front of an Imperial tribunal.

At moments during his first year as a pirate, Madine had wondered why Trotha had been allowed to exist longer than yesterday. It wasn’t as if the Empire couldn’t just wipe him out with four or five Star Destroyers, blasters on full. They didn’t care about the many hostages the pirate held for ransom. There had to be some reason that Trotha still existed beyond what Vesper had mentioned on Alderaan when he told Madine about the plan. Trotha didn’t even belong to the major galactic crime syndicates. Rumor had it that they didn’t want the trouble he trailed in his wake.

One of the crew laughed and took a pretend swing at Amber, the Rhodian second-in-command, who fended him off with an obscene gesture. Madine knew that the slaughter of ships, the killing or hostage taking, the enjoyment of booty whether dead or alive, was all a game to them. They didn’t care if they lived or died, or if anyone else did. None of them did.

  
Beings with consciences died early on the Pulikat.

By the second year, Madine didn’t wonder any more. He just tried hard to remember that he was really an Imperial officer, not a pirate. Sometimes he failed, and he knew the eye would record his every filthy deed. He doubted that he’d be held accountable even if he should be.

Madine dismissed the thought. It was too dangerous to think about his other life, let alone simple to go back to the days before the Brodal, no matter how he wanted to. He might slip, as Christof had, and be killed as Christof would have been if Madine hadn’t saved him. That would bring down all the Empire’s planning, Vesper’s planning, and Madine didn’t want to do that.

_Christof was a blundering fool. I should have let him die but I needed to get that information about Trotha’s plans out to Vesper. Christof got that Alderaani hostage killed, and I won’t forgive him for that._

For a few seconds, Madine let himself think like the Imperial officer he was, not the pirate he looked like.

_Troth’s a warlord. Like that slug, Jabba on Tattooine. Trotha rules the empty spaces, causing destruction. I’ve reported enough about him to have a Fleet move against the Pulikat, but nothing happens. What’s going on?_

He went to the cockpit and glanced out the window of the Brodal. A fleet was arriving around the mobile city-ship what was Trotha’s headquarters. More pirates than Madine had ever seen in his time here were circling around the Pulikat. They were after something big this time.

His Kerricj pilot stirred, his stalked eyes aimed towards Madine. “They’re giving us the orders to dock, Artho.”

“Go ahead.”

 _You die first,_ Madine promised, not letting his expression change. _I am sick of you most of all._

*

Standing in her temporary room, Mon Mothma examined the holo of the travel arrangements.

“It’s a come down, isn’t it?” she murmured, before she could catch herself. “The _Labenth_ is such a small ship.”

When she’d been part of the Republican Senate, she’d had a private vessel on call. Now she was just the Trade Representative from Chandrila, a person of little note as the Orbisi government had made clear over the last several days.

Her assistant, Ceeli Montesi, cleared her throat, and Mothma’s attention focused. She knew that Montesi would only be patient for so long.

“These arrangements seem fine,” Mothma agreed closing her fist on the disk before turning around. She handed it back. “When do we leave?”

“Loading starts in two hours. We might go to the restaurant area for a while and get a meal. Our luggage is already on the ship.”

Mothma knew that her work here on Orbisi was done. In her position, she’d met with the officials, several local traders and had even attended various arts deals. She was ready to shake the dust of this station off her travel clothes and head to Alderaan, though with several stops along the way.

It was on those stops that her real work would be done. Rebellions started in small places. She had credits to spread, intelligence to gather, and rebel allies to assess and recruit. She could hardly wait.

“That seems logical,” she agreed. “There might be someone to talk with. I had hoped we’d get some escorts considering the talk of pirates out there. Didn’t I see a Star Destroyer nearby?“

“I will ask,” Montesi said. “I thought the Empire say that they’d wiped out the pirates?”

“For the fourth time,” Mothma said her voice lowering as they walked towards the restaurant in the _Labenth_ ’s waiting room. “I wish I believed it was true.”

“Well, in case we meet them, let’s get a last good meal before ship food,” Montesi said. “It’s going to be a long trip.”

*

Vesper regretted having to arrest the former Senator. He respected the woman for her honest reputation, and he had no reason to think she was treasonous. He didn’t need the distraction of her death, or even worse, her capture, to wreck this mission at this point.

Not that he thought that Crix, his spy and old friend, was serious about Mon Mothma.

Madine had spoken of her over the years as someone who he’d met on Coruscant and run into enough times to call a friend.

Then came that day on Alderaan, the day after Queen Breha died. The Empire had withdrawn its officers from the Summer Palace out of respect. Vesper had picked up Madine who’d been there on a personal invitation.

He had seen Madine’s face when the man looked at Mon Mothma. He watched Crix turn away. Vesper knew too much about his old friend not to know when some attraction had been sparked, and left unfinished.

Things had changed.

He regretted that they’d not had time to say farewell but it was impossible at that moment.

_But if she gets captured, Crix is sure to over-react._

Vesper knew the risk of a public arrest being noticed by too many people, including some of his superiors. Anything that drew attention to the Labenth was a danger. It was bait, a lure for the pirates of the Pulikat, and was likely to be plundered, then destroyed.

_Let’s get this over with. I can justify her arrest later depending on what happens, I hope._

He stopped, Christof almost running onto his heels.

_Why am I doing this personally? Isn't this something for the local station authorities? Something that won't trigger any ramifications up my chain of command until after the attack._

He wasn't sure about that but it sounded good.

“Have the Orbisi police arrest her on orders of the Empire. Have her brought here.”

The blond officer didn't hesitate. He lifted his wristcom and rattling off the orders as he went around Vesper and disappeared down the corridor.

Vesper turned on his heel and headed back into his office, thinking, hoping. _This has to happen before the _Labenth_ takes off._

*

Mon Mothma enjoyed watching all the various species at a spaceport. It reminded her of the days when she was on Coruscant in the Senate with the galaxy at her feet.

Right now, in the lounge for the _Labenth_ and waiting for her meal in the restaurant, she saw a trio of Wookiees, two adults and a youngster; various aliens, some clad in spacesuits and numerous variants of humans coming and going. Their meal should be here very soon.

There was a stir in the crowd. A group of local officials, led by a member of the _Labenth_ 's staff, entered and looked around.

The group finally looked her way and started across the shiny floor leaving murmurings in the air and staring gazes as they passed.

Mothma had a sinking feeling. All of her possible illegalities, specifically with the growing Rebellion, leapt to mind but stayed hidden behind her diplomat’s mask.

Instead, she looked for Ceeli who had gone for some drinks. It was second nature after all the years of working together to have her aide at her elbow.

Still, what was going on?

"Representative Mon Mothma?" the _Labenth_ staffer said politely. “Chief Raffa of the Orbisi Enforcement division has some questions for you."

"Really?" Mothma looked at the man, noting that he had the puffed-chest look of importance, as well as five guards. "Then I will be happy to answer them. Excuse me for a moment. I'm looking for my aide--"

"This way, Representative," Raffa said curtly.

Ah. All her instincts hummed. For such a man to do such a high-profile thing in public meant someone behind him had to be pulling strings. That meant it was the Empire.

She was on the way to Alderaan to discuss with Prince Bail their funding of rebel groups. She couldn't afford to be under suspicion at the moment.

 _Oh, good._ Here was Ceeli coming back, two glasses in her hand. “Ah, my aide is here. Let's go. I would hate to miss my reservation on the _Labenth_."

Raffa nodded, and waved her forward.

With Montesi at her heels, Mon Mothma walked with Senatorial dignity out of the waiting room, ignoring the staring eyes and whispers.

She hoped that someone would transmit the news to someone in her office on Chandrila just in case she missed her ship.

Still there were two hours before takeoff. That most assuredly be enough time to take care of this pinprick of a policeman.


	2. Chapter 2

Once he’d stockpiled enough cash, Trotha had commissioned the illicit space ship factories on the rim to combine several ships into one tall structure capable of defending itself from every angle, and with the ability to jump to hyperspace to escape. It bristled with gun turrets and missile launchers as well as weapons from every culture in the galaxy. The only restriction his architects had insisted on was that none of the weapons would hit any part of the various ships welded together which made possible the docking of numerous ships on separate levels with different attachments. 

The _Brodal_ was docked halfway down, its claws folded in and hidden by the covers that made it look like a rectagonal freighter of no special distinction. 

The lowest ring had been a circle ship that now sat directly above the hyperspace engines. One quadrant had shattered leaving two raw ends arcing out. Welded on top of it was a ship with tall windows which looked over the empty space between the ends of the broken circle.

Madine and his second-in-command, Amber, a green Rhodian with a branded snout, wandered amid crowds of pirates on their way to the center of the Pulikat where Trotha held court. Once there, they merged with those at the back of a room that was unusually packed, which aroused the Imperial’s suspicion. 

The burly Trotha stood at one end, towering over several bodyguards next to him. Madine knew that there were other unidentified bodyguards were scattered in the restless crowd. Trotha trusted no one, a sentiment that Madine agreed with. The human pirate leader had every reason to think everyone wanted him dead. 

Trotha clapped his hands. Various sounds, lights and motions went off quieting the crowd. His gaze went around the room, past Madine’s, then to the upper rim. 

_Full house. This is it._

“Welcome to all. It’s time to move. I know you’ll be interested in what we do next,” Trotha’s booming voice that was translated into fifty languages to the crowd. “Our target is the _Labenth_. I have a plan that I expect you to follow. The cargo is very rich.”

Beside Madine, Amber stirred, his ears going forward eagerly. Credits always interested the Rhodian. With enough he might be able to get someone to remove the thief brand from his nose. 

_He’s murdered a dozen people. I doubt he’ll live that long,_ Madine put aside his cynical thought and went back to listening. _Trotha’s being unusually communicative. What’s the plan?_

“I have a contact on the ship,” Trotha was saying, “that has provided us the itinerary, and when it first comes out of hyperspace just before its first stop at Havanion.” 

That was a small mining colony with minimal security. The _Labenth_ must be dropping supplies and maybe new miners. _Just a port of transit, not important enough for Imperial protection._

Madine smiled. 

“Gilador will give you the assignments,” Trotha said with a hard glare, “There will be no dispute on what you get for the attack.” ‘Droids, human and non-human understood what that meant. “We share alike.” 

Madine knew that was true. The few times that there had been mass attacks, Trotha had gone out of his way to be fair to all the surviving pirates. Anyone who disagreed with him about sharing the spoils was cast into the empty space between the two broken ends of the circle. 

Mass ejections of dissenters into the cold of space kept his pirates honest. 

Trotha looked around again, this time meeting Madine’s eyes for a fraction of a second, then moving on. Was he being singled out? Then again, there hadn’t been any reason to do so. 

“I want as many of the passengers taken alive,” Trotha ordered. “We need hostages. They’ll be a rich sale.” He dismissed the pirates. “Go! Get ready!”

The crowd split up quickly, murmuring in its hundred languages. 

“We go back then,” Amber said through his translator. “We tell the others and get ready.”

“Yep,” Madine said, not moving. “Go ahead. I’m going to see if I can get more information.”

The Radian’s snort was a horrible sound. “You just want to look at the prisoner. You like the man. Humans always like to gloat at prisoners.”

Madine shot him a wide grin. “That I do. Now get out of here.”

He waited until the majority of the captains had left, then went down the stairs to a lower exit that led to the execution circle. 

Here the ship was oddly shaped to human eyes with curving pearl walls over a semitransparent floor. On the right were doors that led into what had been passenger cabins originally. The bottom half of the door were opaque while the top transparent. 

Trotha had modified the similar doors in the outside walls so they opened into space. The possibility of being cast out into vacuum was a daily torture to the various hostages. Some had gone insane. 

Madine passed cells that had been occupied by offending pirates the last time he was here. They were empty now. That meant Trotha had emptied them for the attack. 

_So were they alive or dead? Or just expelled with crem-paks?_

He’d had seen the bottom layer of the Pulikat wreathed in dust from dead bodies shattered into tiny fragments. 

_He’s going to fill them with _Labenth_ ’s hostages. I wonder who the unlucky people are? _

His steps led him to one small cell. Inside a thin, white-haired man wearing a coarse coverall sat with crossed legs, his eyes closed. In one corner sat a white blanket, waste disposal bucket and the omnipresent light from the glowing walls. The only darkness was the blackness of space outside the opposite hull door. 

“You visiting him again?” Trotha’s voice boomed behind Madine, who whipped around, hand on his blaster. The bodyguards had their guns ready. Madine released and held up his hand. 

“You want him? How much you pay me for him, eh, Artho?”

“You won’t sell,” Madine countered. “He’s your insurance, Trotha. The Empire still wants him alive. ”

“Alderaan wants him alive. He’s their ambassador. Aldrich Dorris, envoy from Viceroy Organa to _me_ ,” the pirate said. “The Empire doesn’t care if he lives or dies. I told him that. He shrugged.”

“Then take Alderaan’s offer. He’s worth a lot.”

“This one, he still has hope, he defies me,” Trotha mocked, looking inside the cell. “I don’t understand why he thinks he’ll stay alive. You, at least, I understand. You want him for the credits.”

Madine nodded. “He was dealing with the government on Tallies when the Alderaani walked away from the table. They hate him, I can get as good a bounty for him dead or alive on Tallies.”

“You will prefer him dead, then?” Trotha inquired. “We can space him without the crem-pack. You can take the body. Pay me half.” 

“No deal. They’ll give me more if they can kill him themselves.”

“I will make you a deal, Artho. If you and your crew will give up your part of the _Labenth_ , I will give him to you.”

Both of them knew that was impossible. Madine’s crew would definitely want everything they took. 

“That’s not going to happen,” Madine replied with a shrug. “I’ll have to make another deal for him. Maybe I’ll get something on that ship worth his life.” He knocked on the cell’s transparent panel with his studded glove. 

The man inside opened his eyes and turned his lined face, pale from lack of sunshine, to acknowledge both Trotha and Madine.

Madine’s gaze met Dorris’. Was there any intelligence left? He couldn’t tell. 

Dorris turned away and closed his eyes.

Trotha gave a hearty laugh. “You’re torturing him, Artho. Get to your ship. He’ll be here when you return. Maybe. Maybe, I kill him, or sell him elsewhere.” 

“I hope the _Labenth_ is as rich as you think, Trotha,” Madine said, stepping back. “Isn’t it a small liner?”

“Rich with prisoners for my cells,” Trotha said. “My contact on Orbisi says there’s a Senator on board.”

“An Imperial Senator? They’ll destroy you for that,” Madine warned. “The Empire won’t stand for it.”

“Hah, funny from you. You run from them every time they show up except that last time, eh?” Trotha shot back. “Yeah, I know you got taken.”

Madine shrugged. “Getting boarded didn’t matter. They didn’t find the major cargo of drugs, only the fake one. That Major Vesper is stupid. I let him search and what they found wasn’t worth their time.” 

“You were lucky,” Trotha mocked. “I hear he’s not as dumb as you think. He’s been hunting rebels along the Rim, and doing well.”

“I met him, played him like a crotark on a hook. I planned for getting caught and got released with my cargo,” Madine leaned on the wall, folded his arms. “Planning is what that matters. I’ll get back to the ship.”

Trotha smiled. “Argulana will walk with you,” he said waving to one of the tall Twi’lek bodyguards. “I’ll give you a tip. Get the Senator, and I’ll give you this one and a bonus.”

Madine didn’t believe it for a micro-second and both men knew the truth. Sooner or later, Dorris’ value would be so diminished that Trotha would toss him into space to gain an empty cell. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He walked away from the cell, his escort hovering behind me. 

*

Mon Mothma hadn’t expected to be ushered up to an Imperial shuttle. She blessed the fact that Montesi was on her heels, that the Imperials hadn’t tried to separate them. When the local police stepped back, with the Stormtroopers surrounded Mothma and Montesi. They walked up the steep ramp into the tall Imperial shuttle. 

The door shut behind them with a solid click, leaving them in the ship’s dimness. 

Mon Mothma looked at the captain. “Why are we here?”

“Major Vesper wishes to speak with you.” The officer waved her towards the passenger cabin. “Take a seat, Representative.” 

“Who? We will miss our connection on the _Labenth_ , Captain!”

“I have my orders.” He walked away before she could protest again. 

“We’ve lost our luggage,” Montesi said when they sat down. “Small seats,” she sniffed as they felt the roar of the engines. 

“That’s not all we’ve lost, Ceeli,” Mothma murmured in the same spirit. “We didn’t get lunch.”

 _I wonder what this Major Vesper wants. Had the Empire discovered her activities? But why now?_ The job on Orbisi had been strictly on Chandrila’s business. 

The flight wasn’t long. Behind them, the Stormtroopers stood, then lined up as the ship settled. 

The captain beckoned. Both women rose. The door slid up, the ramp extended, and Mon Mothma saw a familiar sight, the docking bay of an Imperial light cruiser. 

_Of course, they were Republican cruisers when I knew them._ Walking down she felt a familiar cold chill. Nobody ever heated the bays enough for a Chandrilan. Montesi, the Alderaani from a colder planet, might be comfortable, but Mon Mothma was cold. She hid her hands in her long sleeves.

The blond officer awaiting her on the deck had two Stormtroopers behind him. The leader of their escort saluted him by name. 

“Trade Representative Mon Mothma,” Captain Christof said, acknowledging Montesi with a flick of a glance. “Please come this way.”

“What am I here for, Captain?” she asked, not moving. She was taken by surprise by a slight shove from behind. Ceeli, also jabbed, gasped. 

“Major Vesper is expecting you. Come along.” 

They followed him down the long shined corridors of the Imperial cruiser until they came to a small room. 

The officer awaiting them turned around to face them. “Senator Mon Mothma. I am pleased to finally meet you.”

“Major… “

“Blair Vesper.”

“And why are we here?” Mon Mothma asked, again a Senator. “Is there a problem, Major?”

“I… need to discuss your time on Orbisi,” Vesper said. “There’s some question of your activities there. I am awaiting further information from the station.”

Mothma’s attention sharpened. Vesper’s slight hesitation betrayed something to her. _He doesn’t have the facts. He’s was trying to find a reason for me being there. Why?_

She saw that the man’s desk that was littered with holo disks, and that the screens showed some kind of activity. 

One of the screens flashed bright, then out the small window she saw two Star Destroyers pop into existence. 

_What are they doing here? What’s going on?_

“What activities?” she laughed. “I met with the Karjian committee on Chandrilan trade, and Orbisi is part of that agreement. There should be a recording of it. Why am I really here, Major?”

“I have no reason to explain anything to you, Trade Representative,” he said his voice calm. He looked out the window as another Star Destroyer appeared, and gave a slight smile. 

Mothma didn’t like all the mystery. “Then, Chandrila,” she said equally at ease, “will ask the questions.”

“Sir, the _Labenth_ is leaving,” a voice behind them interrupted.. Mothma flicked a glance back. The blond officer stood at attention behind them. 

Returning her attention to Vesper, looking over the officer’s shoulder, Mon Mothma saw the _Labenth_ lifting away from the cradle, and her temper rose. “I hope you have some explanation for us missing the our flight, Major Vesper.”

He watched it leave as well, but didn’t reply. When the ship went to light speed, she saw his muscles relax slightly. 

“What’s going on here?” Mothma demanded, keeping her tone sharp.

Vesper glanced at her. “Senator, Representative, you will be a guest on this cruiser until we can find another vessel to take you to Chandrila.” 

Montesi spoke up. “We have meetings planned at several stops along the way. We will need to make them aware that we won’t be there.” 

Vesper was not interested in Mothma’s assistant. He looked at Montesi, his face hard. “I’m sure that will be possible.”

Ceeli ignored his dismissal. “Don’t I know you, Major?” she asked, ignoring his dismissal. “Haven’t we met before?”

Mothma was suddenly wary as well as irritated. What did her aide know? 

“Unlikely. I’ve never been to Chandrila.” To Mothma, Vesper seemed momentarily interested but the moment passed. “Give Christof a list of the stops,” he said with a brusque gesture, “and he will ensure that they know you will not be arriving.”

All Imperial in manner again, Major Vesper concluded the interview. “Escort them to their quarters, Captain.” 

Mothma’s anger burned but she knew from past experience that the Major wouldn’t say anything more. The Imperial arrogance was amazing. 

They followed the aide, Christof, out of the office. Stormtroopers followed behind them. 

It was a long walk to the room they’d been assigned but it was comfortable enough with two beds, chairs and a table. There was a comlink and communicator. Mothma doubted that they worked except to record what she and Montesi talked about. Maybe to show some canned Holonews that was a week old, if they were lucky.

After the door closed, Mon Mothma turned on Montesi, who was frowning. “What is it, Ceeli?”

“I…I know him,” she insisted. “At least I’ve seen him before.”

“You’ve met him?” 

“No. I’ve never met him, I know that, I’m sure.” Montesi stood in thought, her arms crossed. “But I am sure I’ve seen him somewhere. I have a memory, a flicker of an image.” She was quiet for a moment, then, “Alderaan. I saw him on Alderaan.”

“When on Alderaan?”

“The last trip when Her Highness died. I’m sure of it. I just don’t know when.” Montesi walked over to one of the chairs that flanked a small table. She tapped a finger on the black plastic. “Let me think.” 

Crossing the room to stand at the window, Mon Mothma saw the curve of the space station, the Star Destroyers. Suddenly several other Destroyers appeared. “What are they doing? There are more ships, Ceeli. What is this about? 

Montesi walked over. They watched the gathering armada. 

Finally Montesi returned to the table and sat. “We’ve lost the luggage,” she repeated herself, then added pragmatically, “I wonder when we’ll get some food. I’d planned on lunch before we left.”

“Well, if they’re listening, maybe they’ll bring us something.” Mon Mothma walked back to other chair. “Do you have the pouch?” 

Montesi nodded and laid it on the table. “Unclassified reports, of course.” 

“Of course. Let’s get started.” Mothma looked up at a flash in the porthole. “Another Destroyer. They’re up to something,” she sighed. “They are definitely up to something.”


	3. Chapter 3

Madine found his crew all ready to leave. The written packet of orders had arrived and he opened it with all them clustered at his shoulders. 

The _Brodal_ was fast and small. It would outpace the bigger attackers so they had been given the less attractive part of the ship. Assigned to attack the minor weaponry in the stern, they were to take the rear cargo entrance. Madine had no doubt that Trotha had sent similar orders to every ship. The attack would be a free-for-all and the winners who survive the attack might have to fight off their fellow pirates for the best spoils. 

Was Trotha himself joining the attack? Madine couldn’t tell. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t. But, from the crowd, it was obvious that most of the Pulikot’s denizens were being sent after the _Labenth_. 

They wouldn’t leave for a few hours. Madine ordered everyone to get some rest, or clean their weapons, and headed for his cabin. 

Locking his door, he made ready to execute for his own plan. First he ran a specialized sensor over the walls and doors to make sure he had his privacy. Madine didn’t totally trust the results but accepted them. 

He turned on a disrupter, ignoring the headache it inspired, and pulled out various pieces of a weapon that he began to assemble. Looking like a pilfered Imperial blaster, it was nothing like them. Madine’s special operations training had taught him to improvise a killing weapon, and this one could kill any member on his ship, no matter their origin. It might look like a pilfered Imperial blaster but it was nothing like them.

Ten beings crewed the _Brodal_ , all as bad as he could get. Killers, enjoyers of brutality, Madine had selected them carefully over the last three years, making sure that he could do what he was planned to do shortly without hesitation. Execution. 

Setting the blaster to one side where he could reach it, Madine relaxed on the bed. Folding his hands behind his head and knowing how dangerous that it was to relax, he let his mind wander. 

This was finally the moment for the endgame, and he would accept only one outcome. Vesper may have given him orders to just infiltrate the pirates and report back on their doings, but Madine had another more important and more personal reason for being on this mission. Aldrich Dorris was going to be free and returned to Alderaan. 

How he was going to do it, he wasn’t sure, but he knew he was going to do it or die. 

He thought back to when they’d met years ago on Peles. A young officer, he had been assigned to escort the Ambassador on a routine mission, when the enormous dam near the city exploded, flooding the streets. Dorris, Madine and his troop managed to escape. 

Dorris never forgot it was Madine who had saved him. 

When Madine, hurting from a divorce, was to visited to Alderaan, Dorris secured him an invitation to the Summer Palace for him. Madine had met Viceroy Bail Organa and Queen Breha. He enjoyed their hospitality, and began to think of a time after his Imperial service when he might return to the beautiful planet. 

He hadn’t had free time like that for years. 

Then the Queen asked him, an Imperial officer, for a favor. Dorris, she told him, had been sent out to negotiate the freedom of Alderaani hostages from Trotha, only to become a prisoner himself. 

Breha of Alderaan had asked him to bring her Ambassador back, dead or alive. Neither the Queen or Madine had known it was the last day of her life. That night, her need became a death request that the Corellian in Madine couldn’t dismiss. 

_Why did I ever make that promise_? Madine asked himself. _Because I wanted to do it anyway._

It was because of the mission on Peles that Madine was able to send the captive Dorris a message that he had a friend on the Pulikat. 

Trotha had pulled Dorris from his cell one day to show him off to some new captains as an example of his power, and of the weakness of Alderaan and the Empire. Madine saw Dorris’ courage hadn’t faltered even if he had been a prisoner for months. 

The pirates played a game of pushing Dorris from captain to captain, bruising the man’s thin body. When Madine grabbed the Alderaani’s arms in a bruising grip, he growled in Pelesian, “Ready to meet your _allusami_?” using the term for forefathers, before pushing him onto another captain. 

Madine hoped that he’d had been understood. During that mission, Madine had saved Dorris, using the phrase ‘forefathers’ as a warning. The ambassador might remember their discussion when Madine visited Alderaan, before the Summer Palace.

The next time their gazes met, Madine saw a flicker of recognition that was hidden a fraction of a second later. He knew that Dorris wouldn’t betray him knowingly. It was the unknowing that Madine had worried about since that day.

Hope. He had been the one who gave Dorris the hope that Trotha hated so much. That’s what had kept Dorris sane for the last three years in the face Trotha’s taunting.

_Would it have been more merciful to not identify myself? I couldn’t do that. I was on Alderaan when Bail sent in Dorris and the envoys. I told Organa that it was a stupid idea, that pirates don’t honor any agreements. It wasn’t like dealing with the crime syndicates where there are rules among thieves._

It had taken only three months to meet Trotha, and the death of Wallyd -- tossed into a cell, a crem-pack strapped on, released into frozen, airless space for Madine and the pirate boss to watch him die -- to gain Trotha’s approval, making it easier to maneuver through the pitfalls of the pirate’s bureaucracy. That’s what tripped up Christof. The young man had come in on another ship, and had reverted to Imperial rules when caught in a bad situation. Trotha knew how typical Imperials worked. He recognized Christof. 

That Madine had managed to get Christof out of Pulikat alive, without betraying his own cover, was a miracle in itself. 

Madine pulled himself out of that memory and directed himself back to Alderaan. It was more pleasant.

_That visit to the Summer Palace was wonderful. Seeing Mothma again after all those years._

_Does she remember that kiss on the balcony? I wonder what would have happened between us if Breha hadn’t died that night? I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to anyone before the Empire pulled me the next day._

Sometimes he thought that memory was all that kept him sane now, his touchstone into his real personality, something he’d let out only a handful of times in the last three years when the reality around him was crushing his soul.

And now, as Madine had done before, he cut off his musings of Alderaan. That was something for private moments when he was very secure, and which wasn’t right now. They were going after the _Labenth_ and Madine had his part to play. 

Artho was who he was now, not Crix Madine. Artho, a pirate with a reputation for cold-blooded murder, and a taste for human women, the more, the better, then sending them for sale into the slave pits on the Rim and Corellia. 

Madine had a job to do for the Empire to destroy the Pulikat and Trotha. He stretched and yawned. Time to get started. 

*

“Sir,” Christof stood just inside the door. 

Vesper turned. “What?”

“There is a call from Alderaan, sir.”

He hoped his annoyance didn’t show. “Who on Alderaan?”

“Viceroy Organa, sir.” 

_How the hell did this happen? Why is he calling me and, more important, how did he find me?_

“Send it through.” 

The holo was indeed the noted statesman Bail Organa of Alderaan, who looked as imposing as any Imperial Admiral. Unconsciously Vesper straightened up as if he was really standing in front of Alderaan’s respected leader. “Viceroy?”

“I am informed that you have detained Representative Mon Mothma,” Bail said in a pleasant tone. “We were expecting her on Alderaan for consultations. May I ask when you will release her?”

Vesper wanted to know how the Viceroy even knew of this, but he had to be diplomatic at that moment. “I wasn’t aware that you were connected to the Representative, sir. May I ask how did you hear of this?”

“Chandrila and Alderaan have long relationships, Major, and they requested I ask when they were informed of her arrest. She is also a friend. What are you holding her for?”

 _To keep her out of the way._ “We have some questions about her activities, Senator. I’m awaiting a report from Orbisi right now.”

“Really? Well, that shouldn’t take long. So she will be freed shortly to continue on the _Labenth_?” 

Out of the corner of his eye Vesper saw Christof step back in, waving a hand excitedly. 

His distraction was noted by Bail. “Major?”

“I will release her as soon as I’m satisfied about the charges, Viceroy,” Vesper said. “I will make sure she has a direct flight to Alderaan.” He made the smallest of apologetic shrugs. “The _Labenth_ has already left.” 

The men exchanged assessing looks at each other, then Bail nodded, and with a flick of his hand, vanished. 

“Sir, we have requests for assistance from Havornan and from the _Labenth_ ,” Christof said in an urgent tone. “The attack was sooner than expected.” 

Vesper smiled in grim satisfaction. “Send the Destructor and the Navarrie to the aid of the _Labenth_ and Havornan. I’m waiting for the next step. Shouldn’t you be onboard the Annas right now?” 

Christof nodded, turned on his heel and left.

 _He’ll use that cruiser as the flagship of the attack on the Pulikat if you’re not careful,_ Vesper reminded himself. _Then again, don’t we need some ambitious younglings in Imperial Service?_

He turned back to the glowing screens. Three Star Destroyers gone to the _Labenth_. Seven incoming, then three more. 

_So where is Madine’s signal? Is he at the Labenth or back at Pulikat?_

*

The _Brodal_ latched its claws to either side of the main cargo hatch of the wounded _Labenth_ , having dragged itself close, and extended its sucker tube to provide an air-filled entry for the pirates. It didn’t take much of explosive to blow the door inward, and enter the lower level. 

Madine let his crew rampage towards the main section where the other pirates were already herding passengers and the crew. He need to investigate the staterooms, and find out who this Senator was that Trotha was after. He’d participated in other pirate takedowns over the last few years and knew that the pirate wasn’t as interested in the prisoners, but as the booty to be hawked later. 

Blasting open one room, ready for someone to shoot him from inside, he found it empty. Madine headed for the next door. 

The fifth one was more than empty. The luggage hadn’t even been unpacked. He walked over with a lever to rip the bag apart, then froze.

“CEELI MONTESI, CHANDRILA,” read the label. 

The next one, “MON MOTHMA, CHANDRILA.”

 _Oh Gods, was she aboard? Trotha said he was after a Senator. Damn it all._ Madine struggled for a second, then took a deep breath. _Calm down._ He could find this out. She was going to be his prisoner if he had to kill everyone else. 

First, he’d better make this look good though. He jammed open her bag and found clothing, jewelry, hand-written notes on Chandrilan paper. There seemed to be a lot of credits, making him raise an eyebrow. 

He scooped up the jewelry and some credits, jammed them in his pockets. Retreating to the door, he blasted the boxes into smithereens, and headed toward the open spaces on the ship. 

The _Labenth_ was a passenger vessel so it had a main lounge. He headed upward and then dodged as a bolt from a bowcaster nearly hit him. 

Amber crowed as he let it off again, not noticing Madine. “We got the Wookiees, and see what I’ve got!”

Madine frowned. He retreated from the crowd and stepped into a store room as they dragged the imprisoned Wookiees down the hallway, the youngest face-down. 

He heard the sound of cloth behind him. 

Ready to kill, he came around to find one of the _Labenth_ ’s stewards. 

Madine shoved the terrified Gungan against the wall, his blaster in its guts. “I have one question for you,” he said menacingly. “Where is Senator Mon Mothma?”

The Gungan gurgled and trembled. It shook its head, hitting him with a floppy ear, and Madine cursed.

He knew it wasn’t going to speak out of terror. However, the tablet at its belt would give him the answer. He needed that information fast. 

He shoved the tablet into its shaking fingers. “Give me the damn passengers list,” he cursed. 

After a couple of taps, a list came up, showing her name, and her aide.

 _Damn!_ Madine smashed his blaster against his face and the Gungan collapsed. 

_Stop it. If she’s here, you have to play it cool or we’re both dead._

_Besides,_ he suddenly grinned, _you know Mothma can handle a weapon. She proved that on the hunt on Alderaan._

He also knew that he’d never get through Amber’s group to find out. He headed for the ship’s security center.

Bodies littered the hallway. Some of the passengers had put up a fight. Madine held up his hands in the face of two pirates plundering the bodies of two adult Wookiees assuring them that he wasn’t interested in dispute, and went on by.

But he had to know. His plans would change if Mothma were here. Coming up to the security cabin. He surveyed the controls, then found what he wanted. The cams. 

The prisoners were being held in the main lounge. Aliens, more aliens, the young Wookiee, being chained up. He’d probably be headed towards the slave pens if he could be broken. But no humans except the pirates and the command crew. 

Cursing, Madine took a deep breath. _Unopened luggage, not a prisoner._

 _If she’s here, she’s dead or she’d be in that room. I have to get out of here. I’ll find out the truth later._

He headed towards the _Brodal_ leaving the sounds of destruction behind him. He had to be in the right place when Vesper arrived with the Star Destroyers, and he was running late. 

“Tear this piece of crap apart, boys,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s all yours.” 

He reached his ship. Stepping into to his cabin, he holstered his blaster, then took up the special gun. 

Walking through the _Brodal_ , he heard a sound from the cockpit, and his heart sank. The Kerricj? What was it still doing here? He quietly set the gun outside the cockpit door and stepped inside. 

“Artho,” it greeted him, the many hands touching the controls. “Where are the others? What did you bring back?”

“Most of it’s by the door. I got this,” Madine replied, holding out a triple necklace with an insignia he now recognized as the official seal of Chandrila. 

The Kerricj turned and examined it. “Will bring a pretty penny likely. You keeping it?”

“Yeah, go get your part of the take,” Madine leaned on the hatchway, the gun hidden behind him. “I’ll stay here.”

The Kerricj nodded. “Later – “

“Now,” Madine ordered. “You know what the others are like. You get first choice in stored cargo before they get there.” 

The Kerricj giggled, slid out of the chair, and headed down the corridor. 

Madine stepped around, took up the gun and shot it in the back, then in the neck to make sure it was dead. After a second, he stepped forward, checked out the body, tossing its weapons into the back of the cockpit. He sealed the door to the cargo hold. 

Seated at the pilot’s chair, he leaned over and put his yellow eye at a sensor, blinking four times in a pattern. The sensor reacted. The Imperial level of control came into play for the ship’s controls overriding that of the Kerricj’s and any others.

First, he ran a ship scan. He was the only living being onboard. Check. 

Then he scanned the communications from the other pirate vessels. Some were getting ready to leave. Damn it, where was Vesper? There should be Star Destroyers everywhere right now before the pirates decided to leave with their booty and head back to the Pulikat. 

Warning sensors on the ship came alive, and Madine laughed. “Here they are.”

Three Star Destroyers flashed into the space around the wrecked _Labenth_ , and TIE fighters flooded out to confront the pirates. 

“Time to leave,” Captain Crix Madine announced. He broke the _Brodal_ free of the _Labenth_. 

Vacuum sucked out the air on the cargo level of the ship. For a second, Madine hoped that the automatic doors would still shut in time to save any survivors, like the steward. He shook it off and headed for a clear space to make a jump to hyperspace.

The _Brodal_ shook under attacks on its shields. 

“Damn, can’t they see the Imperial signal?” he muttered, trying to out-maneuver three TIEs. “I’m broadcasting it in every way I can!”

Vesper had said in their last meeting that death was the order for all pirates so the Star Destroyers would be blocking any signals other than Imperial ones. None of the pirates behind him would be able to report that the _Brodal_ escaped. Madine hoped that didn’t mean just destroying the _Labenth_ with all its attackers. 

The real danger was if any of the pirates had already left for the Pulikat. Trotha would take off faster than the Empire could get there. 

Madine had to get back first. He wasn’t going to let that happen again. 

The communicator buzzed, and he flicked a switch. 

“What are you doing?” Vesper asked in a harsh tone. “Get aboard that Star Destroyer.”

Madine smiled. “Glad to hear your voice.”

“Check in, dammit. The TIEs will let you through. I’ve given that order.”

“I’m heading for the Pulikat,” Madine said coolly, noticing the TIEs were suddenly off his tail. 

_About time._

“We’re about to attack it! “

“So glad you care. Trotha’s not going to escape this time. Follow me,” Madine replied, and flicked off the communicator. He took his ship into hyperspace.


	4. Chapter 4

Mon Mothma was surprised when the buzzer went off. She flicked the switch and a hologram of Vesper arose. “Senator, I wish to speak with you immediately. Please join me.”

Mon Mothma exchanged glances with Montesi, then nodded. “We would be happy to.”

“Excellent. Carter will escort you.” The hologram vanished. 

“Well, what’s that about?” Montesi murmured. “What happened to that Christof?”

Mon Mothma glanced out the window. The view of several Star Destroyers was the same. “Let’s find out.”

The two women followed an officer up to the main deck of the ship.

_Well, this is different,_ Mon Mothma thought when the officer who had come to the door led her and Montesi up to the main deck of the ship. She’d expected to go back to Vesper’s office. 

Through the front view screen she could see the whole of the station, with several small ships in their cradles. Beyond hung an armada of Star Destroyers. Her lips parted. Behind her, Montesi gasped. 

“Ten. Ten Star Destroyers. What are you invading, Major?” Mon Mothma breathed. 

He looked pleased with himself. Whatever plan was going on, he was winning. “More like destruction, Senator. Viceroy Organa has asked me to send you directly to Alderaan. Do you agree?”

She laughed, making him raise an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice, Major?”

“No,” he acknowledged. “But I have a request for you before then.”

She blinked. “Major?”

Suddenly the first of the Star Destroyers went forward, vanishing into light speed. It was followed by the others.

“Senator, the _Labenth_ was attacked by pirates on the way to Havornan.”

“By whom?” 

“You knew it was going to be attacked?” asked Montesi. 

He shot Montesi a glance and came back to Mon Mothma. “By pirates under a human named Trotha, who has been a danger for the last five years. Now he will be finished.”

“So you set a trap with the _Labenth_?” Mon Mothma said. “I’ve heard tales of him. Doesn’t he have a base that can go to light speed?”

“The Pulikat. That won’t be a problem this time,” Vesper said. “We’ve taken care of it.” 

“Sir, we have contact finally,” a communications tech interrupted with some urgency. 

Vesper nodded. “Put it through.” The line crackled. He asked, “What are you doing?”

A voice replied, “Glad to hear your voice finally.”

Mon Mothma frowned. Who was that? He sounded familiar. Not the tone, but the way the way the words were said.

She felt more than saw Montesi stir beside her. Heard a familiar intake of breath. Her aide had realized something.

Mon Mothma frowned and gave a slight shake of her head. 

_Not here._

“Check in. The TIEs will let you through,” Vesper ordered. 

“I’m heading for the Pulikat.”

The Major looked angry. “We’re about to attack it!“

“So glad you care. Trotha’s not going to escape this time. Follow me.” The link was lost. 

The tech carefully didn’t look up at Vesper’s angry face. 

“Who is that?” 

“Senator, you were on Alderaan when the envoys were taken hostage by Trotha, weren’t you?” Vesper asked, not turning around, avoiding her question.

_How does he know that?_ Mon Mothma wondered. _Well, there was no reason not to be truthful._ “Yes, I was at the Summer Palace as a guest.”

“The Alderaani got two of the envoys back—“

“One a corpse, the other insane,” Mon Mothma said to his back with a touch of anger. “The Ambassador, Aldrich Dorris, was never returned. Are you planning to rescue him? If so – “

Vesper cut her off. “Senator, the Ambassador is alive on the Pulikat. I wish you to remain on this ship to escort him back to Alderaan.”

“You’re assuming, Major, that your attack won’t kill him,” Mon Mothma asked. “What if it does?”

He turned back to Mon Mothma. “If the Ambassador is killed, then you may escort his body back. I am sure Viceroy Organa would appreciate that courtesy by Chandrila.”

She stared at him steadily. “Was this your plan all along? Was this why I’m on this ship?” 

“No, though it is convenient. Don’t worry, you will be safe. I will be in touch,” Vesper said, waving to an officer. “Carter will escort you both back to your room.”

*

Mon Mothma held her tongue until their door shut on their cabin. 

She turned to Montesi, speaking carefully, assuming that the monitors were still active. “I’m told the Pulikat is one of the most heavily armed ship cities in the galaxy. Why is he dragging us there?”

“Do you remember that last visit to the Summer Palace? When Breha died?” Montesi looked as if something was still bothered her. “The last party?”

Mothma stood very still. Her anger turned to ashes. That party had been a horrible ending to a wonderful visit by one of her oldest friends, an Imperial officer, no less. Crix Madine. 

_If we’d gotten beyond that kiss, what would have happened?_

Then, she shook her head breaking free of that haunted memory. “I remember vividly. Why?”

“I saw Major Vesper with your friend,” Montesi said, “as he was leaving with the other Imperials the next day.”

The familiar cadence of the voice on the radio. The abruptness. _Was that Crix on the other end? Was that why she was here and not on the _Labenth_ because of Crix? But why would Vesper care? _

“The Major was with him?” she suggested.

“I think we don’t have all the facts, here. We’ll have to wait and see what happens now,” Montesi sat down at the desk as she spoke, still thoughtful. “This could only be about Dorris.”

They both felt the ship shift under their feet. “I don’t think we’re waiting,” Mothma observed. On the wall, the window had gone black. “That was a jump to light speed.”

“Do you think that the battle’s over?” 

Mon Mothma shook her head. “I wouldn’t count on it. Maybe we’re going to the _Labenth_ first?”

Montesi gave a wry smile. “So much for simple working trips, Representative.” 

“Nothing is ever simple. We both know that,” Mothma countered, as sge sat opposite her. “But, if they get rid of Trotha and the pirates, then for once the Empire is doing something right.”

“I agree,” Ceeli nodded. “For once, there’s something worse than the Empire.”

*

When Madine came out of hyperspace near the Pulikat, the space was empty around the huge city. 

He had re-instituted the Kerricj’s programming. The pirate headquarters acknowledged him as one of their own even as the second beacon direct to Vesper was active. Madine estimated he had a half-hour before the Star Destroyers arrived. 

The communicator buzzed, and he acknowledged. “Artho.”

“Why are you back?” Trotha asked bluntly. “The others are – “

“Under attack,” Madine replied. “The Empire had Star Destroyers in the area when the _Labenth_ ’s distress call went out. I came back to warn you.”

“Warn me? You may have led them to me!” Trotha snarled at him. 

“You know they can’t track me through hyperspace. You’re safe.”

“Come aboard. Tell me what happened,” Trotha ordered. 

Madine headed towards a dock near the execution crescent. He had a plan, a very flexible one, but it depended on Vesper and the fleet. Oh, and if he’d be alive by then. 

It took some time to reach the heart of the Pulikat as Trotha must have known. The pirate chief was talking with his bodyguards when Madine walked into the room. He saw twelve other beings all working the consoles, making ready to jump when given the order. 

Madine had no doubt that the gun arrays were manned or ’droid-armed. The pirate was ready to fight until he could run. 

Which made his news even more important. He had to waffle long enough for Vesper to arrive. 

Trotha turned to him, the guards spreading around to his back and sides. “What happened at the _Labenth_?”

“We attacked, got the prisoners, were doing the usual, and suddenly out of hell came Star Destroyers,” Madine’s angry tone matched Trotha’s. “They must have picked up on the distress signals that got out before we jammed--”

“We block those, you know that!” Trotha blasted back overrunning him. “There’s no way the Empire could have heard them in time to have Star Destroyers attack!”

“Felt like a thousand TIEs. Someone told the Empire that we were coming. You’ve got a spy in here, Trotha,” Madine shouted in turn. “The _Labenth_ was a death trap and you’ve lost most of your men.”

The pirate was quiet for a beat. Still suspicious but thinking, Trotha said, “And you escaped?” 

“Small ship.” Madine now matched the calmer voice. “The moment I saw that Destroyer come out of hyperspace, I took off. Released the clamps, pulled away just as the TIEs came in.”

“Empty-handed?” Trotha sneered. “You didn’t have time to get anything?”

Madine held up Mothma’s insignia. 

_Gods, he hoped that she was still alive._

“Lost the crew, got this. You can have it if you want. Probably got some security coding that can be broken. The Chandrilan are big on integration so once you’ve got it, you can break into their systems. Could be worth a lot.”

Trotha spat at him, hitting his jacket. “That thing isn’t even worth the medal in it. Get out of here, coward.” 

Madine saw his chance to escape. “Just a survivor. Good luck, Trotha. You won’t be seeing me again.”

Trotha turned his back on him contempt in every line of his body, daring Madine to shoot him.

The Imperial was no fool. The half dozen bodyguards were all hoping he’d move on Trotha. He didn’t want to end up dead or strapped with a crem-pack and blown out the cell. He turned on his heel and headed for the _Brodal_. 

On the way to the cockpit, he shoved the Kerricj’s body out of the way. He started hitting buttons, lifting the ship from the cradle and moving away. 

Madine headed for the execution crescent. He slid into the half circle and extended the grapples. 

The titanium claws went through the two cells to either side of Dorris’ cell, and dug in. They dragged the _Brodal_ tightly to the occupied cell, and extended the sucker tubing making an airtight seal. 

Wearing a helmet with heat goggles, and holding his specialized blaster, Madine was at the door by the time the tube finished attaching. He looked through the transparent panel and saw Dorris standing close, staring at him, his hands on the door inside. 

“Get back, you fool!” Madine yelled, knowing the man couldn’t hear him.

Dorris understood the gesturing. He scrambled backward, grabbing the small blanket and hiding under it by the far door. 

Madine blew the door open, and tossed in a smoke bomb. Then he pulled down the goggles, flicked them on, and looked for Dorris. 

What he saw was that the other door had opened, and two of Trotha’s bodyguards were holding the prisoner who was fighting desperately to stay in the cell. 

Madine fired. The first of Trotha’s bodyguards was blown back against the other who released the ambassador, and scrambled for cover. 

“Into the ship, Dorris!” Madine snapped, firing again. “Crawl dammit!”

Coughing, the thin man hurried forward on his hands and knees, scoring his hands on the hot fragments covering the deck. Brushing by Madine, he scrabbled into the ship. 

Madine fired a sequenced blast that stitched the doorway causing a third bodyguard to collapse on the floor. Stepping back, he hit the button and the _Brodal_ ’s door closed. He heard blaster fire hit it. 

Heading for the cockpit, he dodged Dorris crouched on the floor, staring at the corpse of the Kerricj. Madine put the gun by the door, sat down in the command chair, and began flicking switches. 

The _Brodal_ rocked as the bodyguards fired on the closed door. 

Madine released the claws and pulled back, not waiting for the tube to retract. 

Behind he knew that anyone in the cell was now frozen in space. It might take them a few minutes to die but Madine didn’t care. 

He heard hard breathing, and turned enough to see Dorris come into the cockpit. The Alderaani sat down in the opposite seat, just as a communication link blinked furiously. 

Madine hit it, expecting to hear from Vesper.

“You’re the spy, aren’t you?” Trotha said with vicious anger. 

Dorris cringed in his seat. 

“Strap yourself in, Aldrich,” Madine ordered. “Only one of many, Trotha. You were riddled with us.”

“Imperial scum. You aren’t going to get away. I’m going to blow you apart!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Madine said agreeably. “I’ve been with you a long time.”

“If they knew what you’d done for me—“

“Who do you think sent me there? You’re dead, Trotha, just like the rest of your pirates.”

“We’ll always fight against the Empire,” Trotha replied. “We want our freedom!”

“You’re not rebels fighting for freedom. You’re pirates who attack innocent vessels and gloat over the body count.”

“And you enjoyed it! Don’t tell me you didn’t!”

“I follow orders,” Madine replied in the calm even tone that every pirate knew from dealing with the Empire. It usually came right before their execution. “Surrender, Trotha.”

Both of them knew that wasn’t going to happen. Madine broke the link, and let out a sigh. “Well, here we go.” He put his eye to the sensor and blinked. The ship’s system returned to the Imperial original, transmitting his identification code. 

“What now?” Dorris asked, then added, “Thank you, Crix. You saved me again.”

“I didn’t get you out of there to die with me,” Madine said. “I’ve been planning for this for years. I hope it works.”

He sent the computer orders that unfolded the lower guns, and they began firing at the opposite side of the crescent ring through the wrecked cell. Pieces of metal flew out, smashing against the _Brodal_ ’s shields. Both men flinched. Madine hoped they would hold. 

He continued to fire. 

“What are you doing?” Dorris said, straightening up. 

“Killing their engines so they can’t jump,” Madine replied. “I’m not letting him get away this time.”

The ship’s console went red with warnings of incoming ships.

Star Destroyers popped out of hyperspace to every side of the Pulikat, deadening the distress calls that it sent out. TIEs poured out of the Destroyers. 

The Pulikat put up its shields and the TIEs swerved off. They circled the ship ready for any chance to get through. 

Madine saw a flash, a strand of light that flickered up into the bottom ring, then further up. A TIE let a blast and it hit the metal walls.

“There go the shields! Got them and the engines! Time to go,” Madine crowed. He stopped firing and swerved the _Brodal_ away from the shaking Pulikat. 

“Where are we going?” Dorris asked, his voice weaker. 

Madine reached down, and picked up a tube, handing it to him. “Eat. It’s protein soup. It should help. It’ll be a while before we’re eating like we did on Alderaan.”

Dorris smiled. “I remember that. I still remember that.”

“Yeah. Oh, and take care of this for me, will you?” Madine pulled out the necklace. Some credits dropped to the floor. He’d forgotten he had taken some of those as well from the luggage. 

“What is it? Chandrila?” Dorris asked, his brow knitted. He held up the jewelry, shrugged, then hung the strands around his neck, tucking it under his shirt. 

“It’s from Mon Mothma. She was on the ship they attacked. I’m sure she’s been rescued by now, but I had to take that as proof—Damn!” 

The _Brodal_ rocked under twin blasts from a small pirate ship that appeared from around a corner. “It’s the _Slite_!”

“ _Slite_?”

“Trotha’s ship. He’s abandoning the Pulikat and getting away!” 

The _Brodal_ dodged and turned to face the smaller ship. 

Dorris closed his eyes, and folded his hands in his lap. His lips moved in prayer.

“Let’s make you useful, Trotha,” Madine muttered, intent on his screens. “Just keep following me.” He reinforced the rear shields and headed around the corner of the Pulikat. 

The ship followed, firing methodically. TIEs fired at both of them.

“What are you planning?” Dorris asked. 

As if to answer, the _Brodal_ made a sharp right throwing them against the straps, and the next blasts from the _Slite_ hit the Pulikat power array on the third level. The big ship’s guns were destroyed at that point.

Madine headed his ship straight up, out of the reach of the _Slite_. The small ship followed, firing at the _Brodal_. 

“He’s getting close,” Dorris said, sipping on his tube, and looking at the sea of red lights. “Your shields are overheating.”

Madine gritted his teeth. 

Then the firing stopped. 

“Why?” Dorris asked. “Why did he stop?”

“He’s going to jump as soon as he can get clear,” Madine yelled. “Not if I can help it, damnit!”

“What about his crew?

“Every pirate for himself. Where is that ship?”

He saw the _Slite_ to the right and went after him. 

The city ship began to explode. 

A light cruiser emerged from hyperspace but held back seeing the fight. 

Madine came up on the _Slite_ , extending the _Brodal_ ’s claws, reaching for it. 

Trotha must have seen him because he rolled the ship so his turbo array was firing directly at the shielding of the _Brodal_. 

Dorris shut his eyes. 

Madine snarled wordlessly. The grapples hit the _Slite_. He dug them in to the skin, pulling the other ship close to the _Brodal_ , crushing the _Slite_ ’s laser array. Something exploded and the two ships, now hugging each other, rolled. 

The communicator crackled. “Where are you?” a familiar voice demanded.

“You know where I am, Vesper. Pull us in!” 

“Get the hell out of there. The Pulikat is breaking apart. What are you doing?”

Madine cursed. “He was going to light speed! Smash his engines! Pull us in, you idiots!” 

An Imperial Destroyer set a blast over their heads. It shattered part of the Pulikat, and metal hit the entangled ships. The console lights began to black out, or were just red. 

“You’re crazy,” Dorris said, not opening his eyes. “We’ll go up together.”

“I didn’t keep my promise to just let you die. Uh!” Both Madine and Dorris were flung forward when a tractor beam grabbed the entangled ships. It dragged them towards the bay of the Star Destroyer. 

“If Trotha doesn’t turn down his engines, he’ll explode,” Madine said, settling back. 

“That would be bad for us,” Dorris commented after taking a sip. “Ugh. This is really terrible stuff.”

“I know. I kept it for emergencies,” Madine replied. “Guess I’m used to the taste. Ah. They’ve smashed his engines before he could be stupid.”

“And ours, too.”

“That doesn’t matter. This ship’s going nowhere ever again.”

“Are you sure the Destroyer knows we’re friends?” Dorris said, wrinkling his nose, then taking several gulps of the liquid. 

“I hope so,” Madine replied. “I really hope so.”


	5. Chapter 5

The bay was filled with Stormtroopers and ‘droids filling the area with foam. 

Madine opened the _Brodal_ ’s cockpit doors before the battering ‘droids could break in. Stormtroopers clattered up, pointing their weapons at both men. 

“Hold on, I’m Crix—“ The Stormtrooper raised his gun warningly. “Right. Calm down.” 

“Discard your weapon,” the trooper ordered, his fingers ready. “Get it off now!”

Madine unfastened the blaster belt, gently putting it and his gun on the deck. His movements were slow and steady. 

They were searched for more weapons, then both men were dragged out of the ship down the gangplank to the floor of the bay where more troopers were waiting. 

Forced to his knees, Madine saw Trotha being brought out as well. Luckily he was a few feet away or Madine might have lunged at him. 

He tried to see Dorris but a trooper forced down his head.

Madine turned his head slightly and saw the Star Destroyers were dragging the Pulikat apart with tractor beams, ripping through the metal ships. The TIEs shot at any escape pods or ships. Nothing was going to escape this attack. 

Madine raised his head, and had it hit down. 

He saw the ship’s captain coming towards them and his heart sank. Christof? Someone out there was laughing at him because he’d never expected to see the young man again. 

Captain Christof stopped a few feet away, looking from one pirate to the other. 

“Artho and Trotha. How fitting you should end here,” he said. 

Trotha snarled, glancing over at Madine. “You let him go, did you, Artho? I should have spaced you both!”

“Yes, you should have, shouldn’t you?” Christof replied. “Now it’s my turn for you both.”

Madine’s head went up. “What the hell are you talking about, Christof?” 

Christof looked startled. “How did you know my real name?” 

Suddenly, Dorris collapsed, falling forward on the deck, with a groan. His eyelids fluttered. The Stormtrooper above him looked to his captain to find out what to do next since he hadn’t touched the man. 

“Who is that?” Christof said looking disdainful.

“Ambassador Aldrich Dorris of Alderaan,” Madine said through gritted teeth. The trooper slapped him. “Trotha’s prime prisoner. You know that from your own time--!”

Christof cut him off, “And, you were going to use him as a hostage, Artho? How enterprising of you.”

Trotha laughed. “So, he doesn’t know who you are, spy. You think he’s going to let you off? Whoever you worked for isn’t here to save you, are they?”

Madine knew that the pirate had a point. If he was killed, all that would happen would be that Holonews would be singing the praises of Christof and how the Empire defeated the pirates. Which meant that Madine had better extend this party until someone superior, like Blair Vesper, showed up. “You cretin – “

“Respect the captain, scum,” said the trooper behind him with another blow. 

Madine almost turned and hit back, but caught himself. Kill that death wish. 

“Get the Ambassador some help, Captain Christof. Alderaan would approve of you doing that.”

The trooper put his muzzle on the back of Madine’s neck. “Shut up!”

 _I’m going to make him eat that blaster,_ Madine promised himself 

“Weren’t there orders from the Emperor about a Dorris?” Christof mused. “I’ll have to check.”

Behind Christof, Madine saw a shuttle land in the bay with a clunk that caught the captain’s attention. 

The gangway came down and Blair Vesper emerged with a crowd of Stormtroopers. He led the way to the ruined ships. 

Madine smiled when he heard Christof curse. 

Vesper came up, assessing the situation in a second. “I see you’ve caught some pirates, Christof.” 

“Yes, sir,” Christof said. “The Pulikat is being destroyed as well.”

“So I saw on the way in. All the pirates at the _Labenth_ were wiped out. The plan worked,” Vesper smiled, satisfied. 

He walked over to Dorris who had gotten up on his hands and knees. “Ambassador?” Vesper held out his hand. “Ambassador Dorris?”

“Yes. Yes,” Dorris said, rising, finding his feet with the Major’s help. He swayed and Vesper caught him. “I’m Dorris.”

“Excellent. I’m very glad you’re alive. Viceroy Organa will be pleased that we’ve rescued you. My ship will take you there immediately.”

“Thank you.” Dorris looked at Madine who gave a fractional shake of his head. He didn’t say anything. 

“In fact,” Vesper gestured, and the troopers parted, “I have two other diplomats who will be pleased to escort you back.” 

Madine was rocked to his core. Mon Mothma?

_So she hadn’t been on the _Labenth_ after all? She’s alive? Why the hell had Vesper brought her here? _

Her gaze slid over the troopers and pirate prisoners to focus on Dorris. “Aldrich? Oh, I’m so glad you’re alive!” 

Madine saw Ceeli Montesi standing behind the Senator. She stared at him, her eyes narrowed. The aide was too perceptive for this situation. He hoped she wouldn’t say anything. This wasn’t the time.

Vesper handed off Dorris to Mon Mothma who held out her arms and hugged him gently. They took two steps before Dorris stopped, turning to Trotha. “When they have you at trial, I will tell them everything.”

Trotha’s laughter rocked around the bay. “You think you’ll be alive then? I’ve got friends even on Alderaan.”

Madine didn’t know what Trotha was on about but wished someone would shut him up.

“I’d count on Viceroy Organa to handle that,” Vesper said, “with the Empire’s help, of course. You’re wiped out, Trotha.” 

“We’ll still fight you,” Trotha replied. “We’ll rebel everywhere against the Empire!”

“Rebels and pirates are not the same thing,” Mothma said flatly. 

“They’ll be treated alike,” Christof said dismissed the comment. “The Empire exists to protect the galaxy from both.”

“Time for you to leave, Senator,” Vesper said, to the women who the captain hadn’t bothered to look at. “We need to deal with these pirates.”

Trotha looked from side to side. Madine knew the pirate was losing his famous temper and was going to overreact. He also knew the trooper behind Trotha wasn’t ready for that to happen.

“Vesper!” he yelled, a second before Trotha jumped towards Dorris.

Vesper swiveled but was caught in the mass of movement as troopers reached or aimed at Trotha. 

Montesi lunged between Mon Mothma and the weaken Dorris, shoving them back. She took the full impact of a Stormtrooper, then Trotha, who knocked the trio to the metal deck. 

The trooper behind Madine gave him a hard crack on the side of his head when he made an abortive move towards the scrum. He saw stars and fell on his hands. Blood dripped down his face.

A blaster fired and everyone ducked. 

When they looked up again, Mon Mothma stood above the body of Trotha, a blaster rifle smoking in her hand. His head was a mass of brains and blood spilling over the Stormtrooper and Montasi.

Madine grinned through the pain. _Yeah, Organa taught her well._

Coolly, she handed the rifle back to the stunned trooper next to her, and held up out her hand to Ceeli. “Are you wounded?”

Montesi pushed at the trooper who had protected her. “I’m... fine. You missed me. That was a good shot.” 

Mon Mothma smiled. “I had a very good teacher.”

“Let’s get you all on the shuttle,” Vesper said, staring from her to the corpse, then back. He gestured to an aide, who led them away. 

The Stormtroopers made way for the trio then closed ranks. 

“What about this one, sir?” Christof asked, waving to Madine. 

Vesper held up his hand. “Wait.”

The shuttle closed its doors, and took off. Vesper gave a sigh of relief and relaxed. 

He said to the trooper behind Madine, “Get back.”

“Sir?” Christof protested. “What?”

“Get up, Captain Madine. Welcome back to the Empire.” 

Christof’s jaw dropped. “He’s one of us?” 

“Why do you think you’re still alive, Christof?” Madine said with a sharp edge to his voice. He rolled upright on his heels, then stood, wiping the blood off his face.

The troopers looked from one to the other, then stepped away from Madine. The one who had hit him retreated behind another.

“He saved your life,” Vesper reproved Christof. “You should say thank you.” 

“He was a spy on the Pulikat? I thought I was the only one left!” Christof said in astonishment. “Trotha killed at least two when I was there.”

“There’s a reason why you never knew about the others, Christof,” Vesper replied.

“You pulled that little stunt and got the Alderaani hostage killed,” Madine said 

“I needed to convince them of who I was,” Christof said defensively. “She was crazy after all.”

“I hope Alderaan holds you responsible!” Madine shouted, clenching his fists. “It had better be in your record!” 

The troopers sensed danger. They looked from one to another, and two behind Madine lifted their blasters uncertainly. 

Vesper stepped in front of Madine, holding up his hands. “Stop it, Captain, now! We’re leaving!” He glanced over his shoulder. “Christof, we’ll take one of your small ships to get back to my cruiser. Make sure that you save the Pulikot’s records if you can. The Emperor is interested in them.” 

Madine swallowed his anger and almost hysterical laughter as he followed Vesper towards a small shuttle followed by the troopers. This wasn’t the moment to break down. He needed to get to a safe place, report, and let the Imperial officer to come back to life. What he’d do to Christof in the future would have to wait.

*

Mon Mothma thought that Dorris’ home was small but lovely. It had been months since the trio had arrived on Alderaan in the Imperial shuttle. Dorris had been taken instantly into medical care. Mon Mothma and Montesi had gone to see the Viceroy. 

Now, a full season later, Mothma was back on the planet and, at Dorris’ request, had come to see him at his house. 

A high-security guard ‘droid met her at the door and led her down a corridor out to the back of the elegant building where Dorris was waiting for her. 

Mon Mothma thought he hadn’t recovered much since she last saw him on the Star Destroyer. He was still pale, fragile, and weak enough to use a medical hover-chair. 

She hated those devices. They reminded her of the one Breha had used in her last years and were firmly associated with weakness and death. 

“Welcome, Mothma,” he said, his voice stronger than she expected. “It is good to see you again.”

They moved out to the veranda that overlooked a lawn full of children and their guardian droids. 

“I thought you’d want something quiet,” she said sitting down next to him. 

A small droid glided up with an assortment of drinks. She saw he already had one, so she helped herself, and settled back in the chair. 

“Oh, I’ve had enough of silence,” he replied, smiling as one of the kids grabbed a ball and fled with it, chased by the others yelling at her. 

Mothma felt a pang of embarrassment. She’d read the confidential report on Dorris’ time on the Pulikat. That long in silent, solitary confinement would have driven her insane. 

“The children are from a neighboring school and it’s playtime. They’ll go shortly. Then I put on music.” He glanced at her. “I don’t go out at night. I never want to see the stars ever again. That’s why I missed the Residence party. Thank you for the invitation.” 

“I missed you, Aldrich.”

He smiled. “Maybe next year. My med droid says I might be healthy by then.”

She knew he knew it wasn’t true, but neither disputed it. “You asked me to come?”

“For more than just the pleasure of your company,” he said, “Though that is considerable. I have something for you.” He picked a necklace out of his lap. The three strands were tangled together. 

She frowned, took the bauble, and then looked at him puzzled. “This was in my luggage on the _Labenth_. The ship was totally destroyed.” 

“I know, but he wanted me to return it to you.”

“He?” She said puzzled. “Who? The pirate who saved you?”

Dorris laughed gently, the taut skin around his eyes crinkling with fine lines. “You didn’t recognize him?”

She shook her head.

“It was Crix Madine,” Dorris said with an air of confidentiality.

“Crix? What was he doing there?” 

“I don’t know really. I always thought that the Emperor was supporting the pirates since they lasted that long. When Crix used a word used a word from Peles that only he and I knew, I thought I was going crazy.” Dorris might be watching the children’s antics, but Mothma knew that his mind was back on the Pulikat. “He came back at random times, just to stare at me in that cell. Trotha mocked him for it. He said Crix wanted me for some kind of bounty but the price was too high.” 

“Ceeli thought it might be him,” Mothma said slowly, “but we had no proof.”

“Trotha never knew that Crix was telling me that he was still there for me. That I wasn’t forgotten.”

“Bail—“

“—worked hard tried to get me freed, yes. Mothma, I don’t know why Madine came for me. I can’t even ask him why. Even Bail can’t find him in the Imperial system.”

Mothma looked out at the grass where the ‘droids were rounding up their charges and ushering them towards the local transport. “When I see Crix next, I’ll ask him.”

Dorris wasn’t finished with his story.

“His being there saved my sanity. He gave me hope. If you ever see him again, will you tell him to come and see me? I want to say thank you again.” He took a sip of his drink, then added, “But make it soon.”

With a catch in her voice, she said, “I will, Aldrich. I’ll tell him that.” She paused, thought for a moment, then added, “Don’t die before he gets here. He won’t like that. Remember he’s Special Ops.”

They sat in silence watching the sun set on the now-empty field, the golden rays outlining the edges of the green grass. Mothma thought the blur in her eyes had to be from the slight wind, not tears. 

Finally, smiling, Dorris looked at her with a mischievous glint in his faded blue eyes. “So, how’s your rebellion going?”

*

Madine lay on a grassy hillside, his eyes closed, hands folded behind his neck, his pale skin glorying in the hot sunshine. Vesper had teased him about what tattoo he wanted to keep as a souvenir before Madine went into the bacta-tube to be cleansed. Madine said none. He didn’t want to keep any memories of the last three years except that of a freed Aldrich Dorris and Mon Mothma and Montesi leaving, safe, walking onto the Imperial shuttle for their trip to Alderaan. 

His eyes were back to their basic intense blue, his hair blond again. The pirate, Artho, was gone forever.

Madine was aware that his recorded actions could be used against him if the Empire chose. One of the first things Vesper did when they returned to his cruiser was to ask him for the yellow eye camera that was the information dump. He no longer cared what the files had on him.

He let his mind drift back to the sight of Mon Mothma with the smoking blaster. He smiled. Someday he hoped they could pick up where they’d left off on that balcony on Alderaan, but now he’d watch out if she was armed. 

He wondered where she was today.

He should visit Dorris on Alderaan. He’d be welcomed, Madine was sure. Then again, the man was still recovering from his captivity so Madine didn’t want to stress him until he was recovered. Once he felt better, Madine would visit. 

_I kept my promise, Your Majesty, Queen Breha. I brought him back for you, and no one will ever need to know about your request or that I put it above the Empire’s orders to let him die in captivity._

Since coming back to civilization, he’d overheard comments about various planetary rebellions and hoped they weren’t true. Didn’t they know what the Empire would do to them?

The Empire was the only thing between chaos and order. 

He felt heavy tread on the ground, then a shadow fell over his face. 

Madine opened his eyes. “Blair?”

“You’re going to have to start calling me, sir, again,” his friend said, sitting down beside him. “The Emperor approves of your work on the last mission but he’s decided it’s been a long enough recovery time. It’s time for you to go back to work.”

“No more pirates?”

“Huh. What’s left of them have run to the Rim planets like Tattooine, and beyond. No, some small rebellions. Just cleanup. You’re being raised to Commander. You’d gone further if you’d followed the orders on Dorris.”

Madine closed his eyes. “I don’t remember that order. Did you get a promotion? It was your idea. You ran it for three years.”

Vesper chuckled. “I got something, yes. You did the work though. The Empire thanks you.”

“It’s welcome.”

“So get off your lazy ass.” Vesper gave him a shove. “Let’s get back to work.” 

“Yes, sir!”

*

A few years later, Emperor Palpatine decided to assassinate Mon Mothma of Chandrila. He ordered her old friend, Major Crix Madine, to do it. He rebelled. [For the Good of the Galaxy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6586441)


End file.
